A Chamber of Delights (3 page)

‘I’m having some guests tomorrow night. Some very devout friends.’ She gave him a wicked little smirk and turned to go. ‘Leave the door unlocked, will you. I shall need the confessional.’

As she strode across the lawn, pictures of the gardener’s taut belly and his swelling bulge filled her mind. He clearly hadn’t known whether she’d been joking about the confessional or not. But she’d never been so serious in her life. As soon as she’d seen it standing in the chapel, she’d had an inspiration. That was the one thing she had needed to give her role of ‘Facilitator of Fantasies’ the spark that could make her parties a wild success.

The day passed very quickly. The evening air was hot. Gael slipped on a blouse and a wrap-over skirt that would keep her body cool. From her bedroom she could see the clear, sandy-bottomed lake shimmering through the trees. It was so long since she had swum naked on a hot summer’s eve. She grabbed a towel and skipped lightly down the stairs.

As she neared the water, she opened her blouse and ran, delighting in the coolness of the breeze against her skin. Then she heard a laugh. She saw clothes strewn along the shore where a young woman sat naked upon a log. Gael slipped behind a tree trunk as a man swam strongly towards the girl. She giggled when he splashed her.

Now Gael recognised the gardener. And surely that was Sophie. A flash of anger went through Gael. Her pulse began to pound as Flanders pulled the redheaded maid into the water. They fought, she splashing him and trying to duck him under; he grabbing her breasts from behind and pulling her backwards.

Then he dived.

Sophie tried to find him.

He came between her legs, his face upward. She shrieked and wriggled as his mouth closed on her sex. Then he turned, hoisted her over his shoulder and carried her to the grassy shore.

Now Gael saw what she had been imagining all day.
His penis erupted strongly from a mat of golden hair, curving up against his panting belly. His testicles hung heavily as he walked towards Gael’s hiding-place. With Sophie’s bottom towards her, her legs apart, the crevice of her sex showed plainly in the golden light, the ginger hair that fringed it streaming drops of water.

‘Let me down, you brute.’ Sophie hammered at his back.

Gael stayed behind her tree trunk and peeped through the lower leaves. Now the girl wriggled to get free, but he held her fast. They were so close now that Gael could hear their breathing. She prayed they wouldn’t hear hers. Her heart was thumping loudly. Her abdomen pumped hard.

‘Let me down, I said, Todd Flanders.’ Sophie’s tone was full of fun as she wriggled to no avail.

He slapped her bottom. ‘Not until you grovel.’ He slapped again.

‘Ouch, you brute. Now I won’t play your silly game.’

‘You will, or I’ll spank you hard.’ He slapped her again, making red weals rise on her freckled flesh. Then he raked her with his fingers, drawing them down through the crevice of her bottom, parting her sex lips wetly.

Sophie cried out, half in frustration, half in pleasure, Gael thought. And as he spanked the girl, his phallus jerked.

Gael swallowed hard. In the flesh, that cock was even bigger than she’d pictured it. She began to feel she’d been a fool not to let him know that she’d wanted him. But perhaps he was committed to Sophie. Perhaps he wouldn’t be interested in anyone but the maid. They were clearly lovers. Gael knew she’d been a fool to think he was a virgin and even more so to think he was available to her.

He spanked Sophie’s bottom again. Particularly well-rounded, it bounced as he struck it with the flat of his
hand, making sure that the tips of his fingers just caught the hairy fringes of her vulva. Through a mass of ginger hair, the lips had risen plumply, more rosy than the pale pink of her thighs.

The purse of flesh between Gael’s own legs was more than moist inside. Her legs were trembling violently, half with the fear of being caught, and half with anticipation of Flanders’ next move.

He stood the housemaid on her feet. He picked up his shorts and drew the belt out slowly.

Sophie yelped as he thwacked it into his palm. ‘Don’t you dare touch me with that, you brute.’ She turned to flee but he tackled her to the ground, sat astride her and forced her arms above her head.

She wriggled under him, his phallus between her breasts, the helmet of it swollen as he thrust up. He tied her wrists together and, with apparently little effort, hoisted Sophie up and hooked the belt to a tree branch above. Springing on the balls of her feet, her breasts were taut, her armpits deeply hollowed by their tension.

She wriggled hard but Gael could see that her eyes were lit up with fun. When Flanders found a slender, whippy branch, they lit up even more. But she spat, ‘And you can drop that, you brute. I shan’t grovel if you whip me.’

He grinned, flashing perfect teeth. ‘You know how much you like to be whipped, Mrs Sones.’ He thwacked the switch into his palm. ‘You’ll beg me to fuck you or I’ll leave you hanging here all night.’ As he laughed, his phallus wagged to the movements of his belly. His testicles swung freely.

‘You wouldn’t dare leave me here,’ she pouted.

‘Try me.’ He brought the switch down on her bottom, making her arch and thrust her breasts out more. The teats were hard, erupting from dark rings. They were the nipples of a nursing mother. So, Gael thought, she wasn’t such an innocent after all. Was she having the gardener on the side while her husband stayed at home?

Flanders swiped Sophie’s bottom and made her yelp. He spread her legs and drew the switch between them very slowly, making her writhe at every little touch.

Gael put her hand inside her skirt. It found her open crevice as she crouched. As her finger slipped into her moistness, she wondered what it would feel like to be hung up naked and so helpless. Something in being tied and unable to resist the ministrations of a man had always made her horny.

As Flanders whisked the switch between Sophie’s legs, Gael, breathing heavily, began to work her dildo, squatting lower to open herself up wide.

Flanders walked around his prize, chastising her lightly with the switch, bringing lines of colour to her skin. She glared at him defiantly until he put his hand between her legs and began, slowly, to rub her. Then she started to moan, and wriggled on his hand.

He nipped her neck.

She yelped and tried to nip him in return, but was too securely tied. He was her master – she his slave.

Gael wondered what he’d do with the girl. She could see the wetness on his hand as he drew it between her legs. And little beads of milk were rising from her nipples. He sucked them, making her set her head right back. Panting deeply, she thrust a nipple deeper into his mouth.

He bit her neck and skimmed her nubbin with his finger. Sophie began to quiver and set her legs apart to give him unrestricted access.

Now he raked her body with his fingers, drawing them down her flanks, from the hollows of her armpits to her thighs. ‘Beg,’ he whispered. ‘Beg and I’ll give you this.’ He stroked his shaft and made it swell. ‘You know how much you want it.’

She shook her head. ‘Shan’t. You’re a bastard and I hate you.’

‘And do you hate me doing this?’ He crouched and
spread her legs so that her feet were on his knees. Hanging from the branch, all she could do was bounce on him.

He yoked her under her knees, lifting her legs and making her sex lips taut as she swung.

Looking up into her crotch, he parted her labia with his tongue. Then he sucked her very slowly, like he might suck an orange, drawing out its juice; he closed his eyes and savoured its aroma.

As he sucked, she began to whimper softly. ‘Bastard. You bastard. For God’s sake do me properly.’

‘Are you begging me, Mrs Sones?’ He drove his tongue between the thick lips of her sex, tickling at her clitoris.

Gael felt a tremor of intense lust. She wanted to be tied and hung and spread and licked like that. She wanted him to force her legs apart and bite her groin, and make her wriggle on his face as his tongue delved deeply in her. Her heart drummed so hard that she was certain they would hear it. A twig snapped as she moved, but they did not turn. The girl was too intent on the tongue between her legs, and he seemed too ardent to notice the watcher in the wood.

The girl was gasping now, opening and closing her legs while the gardener sucked her nubbin. As he knelt, his veiny phallus stood up stiffly, an angry pink in the light of the setting sun. A pearl of semen rose at its tip and ran down through the valley of its head.

‘Beg,’ he whispered between the forays of his tongue. ‘Implore me.’

The girl was twisting now, her fingers clinging to the branch, her nipples oozing milk. This glazed her breasts and trickled down her belly. From there it ran between her legs.

‘All right. All right,’ she gasped. ‘You’ve won. Now let me down.’

‘I don’t hear you begging yet.’ He sucked her hard.

‘Fuck me, you bastard.’

‘That’s better, but say it louder. Shout it.’

‘Someone might hear if I do.’

‘No one will hear. Miss Goody-goody is probably tucked up in bed with a glass of hot milk and a Mills and Boon romance. She’s probably got a finger deep in here.’

Gael snorted, then stifled it as he skimmed Sophie between the legs again and licked his finger.

Sophie threw her head back impatiently. ‘She’s not so innocent as you think.’

‘She’s pious,’ he whispered. ‘She’s going to use the chapel. She had me clean it up.’ He moved to face the housemaid.

Sophie creased her brow. ‘You’re joking.’

He massaged her nipples, making them weep rich milk. Then he squeezed and licked it off her breasts. ‘I’m not joking. She’s a prude. She kept her legs shut tight as she eyed my cock this morning.’ He stood back and worked his erection. ‘I think she wants to feel it but her piety won’t let her.’

‘Don’t kid yourself, Todd Flanders. Not all women are interested in your prick.’

‘But you are, aren’t you, you horny little minx.’ He stood before Sophie, rubbing his sac against her pubis, the tip of his phallus nosing at her navel. ‘But if Miss Goody-goody wasn’t so religious, why would she want the confessional cleaned up?’ He went behind Sophie and fondled her breasts. He put one hand between her legs and worked her vulva thoughtfully.

Sophie moaned. ‘I don’t know and I don’t really care. All I do know is that you’re a pig. Now for God’s sake do me properly.’

‘Are you begging?’ He bit her waist.

‘Yes – I’m begging. Now fuck me, you bastard. I can’t stand this any more. And let me down. You know I only come when I get your cock inside me.’

He put his lips to hers, whispering, ‘And what about Miss Melindi’s cock? Don’t you come with that?’

‘She hasn’t got a cock.’

‘She’s got a rubber one. I saw it in a bedroom drawer.’

‘You’ve got no business looking in her drawers. Have you been wearing her knickers again?’

He shrugged. ‘I like the feel of my balls against the crotch of a woman’s pants, specially when she’s been wearing them.’

‘She’d fire you if she knew.’

He shook his head. ‘She needs me too much to fire me, Sophie, my love.’

‘My God, you’re a conceited bastard, Flanders.’

He grinned. ‘Perhaps.’ Then he moved to face her again and parted her legs, placing his shaft between them, letting it nose up to her vulva but not between its lips.

Sophie closed her eyes and took a sharp breath.

He held there, moving her up and down on the stiffness of his shaft, making her feel him without the satisfaction of penetration.

She whispered, ‘Fuck me, Todd. Please.’

Now he drove up, hard. Gael flinched at the force of it, but the girl cried out with pleasure.

Again he thrust, the whole of his length coming out of her as she rose on the springing branch, before he was buried deeply once again. The blond mat of his pubis met her tangled ginger hair, nestled in it for a moment and then withdrew shining with her juice.

He pulled her nipples as he bounced her, making the springy branch do all the work, plunging her down on himself then lifting her off again.

She wound her legs around his waist to stop him pulling out. He growled and thrust up harder. His hand came around her bottom and found her secret hole. When he drove his finger deep, it made the redhead gasp.

‘You brute. You know I can’t stand you doing that.’

‘Why? Because it makes you come too soon?’

She threw up her head again.

He drove his finger in repeatedly.

Gael had her skirt off now. One finger worked briskly at her nubbin as she crouched. The other hand eased the large head of the dildo between her straining labia. She wanted to join them and feel the real thing. She might lick the whole length of him as he pulled it out, surprised to find another woman to vent his passion on. When he saw that she was naked and ready for his cock, he might spread her in the grass and take her hard while Sophie hung there jealously, helpless to prevent him.

Gael killed her fantasies and watched as he let the housemaid down. Sophie clung to him, his phallus buried in her. Gael could see his testes swinging beneath Sophie’s bottom, the hairs of his sac quite wet.

He laid her in the grass and pushed her legs right back so she was open wide to Gael as well as to his cock.

Gael watched his bottom rise and fall. His testes bounced and swung. She could see the housemaid’s puckered, secret hole, stretched wide as he took her with such verve that it made Gael’s need for him almost too strong for her to resist.

With his hands on Sophie’s shoulders, he pressed her to the grass and flexed his hips. Her body writhed as his strokes got fast and urgent. She clawed the muscles of his back and threw her head from side to side.

Abruptly he withdrew.

He lay back on the grass, his legs splayed wide apart. His penis tensed. Then a spurt of semen shot right up his belly.

Gael licked her lips as she watched his phallus pump. She wanted to put her mouth to it herself and suck it slowly in, feeling its beat against her tongue, savouring its taste. She wanted to sit astride him and rub her vulva on his chest and ride him until she came. But she was
frozen to the spot. Her thighs were tense, her nubbin hard, her vulva swollen with her aching need.